


theirs not to reason why

by electriceell



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Domestic Violence, Exploitation, F/M, I need to calm down with the tags, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Karen Page's shitty past, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Porn, Suicide Attempt, but not that this is porn, in a scary bad gross way, just that this particular situation is, not that porn is scary bad and gross, sexual exploitation, that the making of porn is referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:09:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electriceell/pseuds/electriceell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm Daredevil."</p><p>Matt's disclosure isn't particularly shocking to Karen, she's had her suspicions for a while now, what does surprise her is the memories it stirs up. And maybe it's because Ellison confronted her with her past, but it's like Kevin's in the room with her and if anyone were to understand her past, her own double identity, it would be Matt.</p><p>  <i>or</i></p><p>Karen Page meets Matt secret for secret when he admits that he's the masked vigilante who's been flipping all over Hell's Kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the Daredevil Bingo prompt: "character backstory"
> 
> title from _The Charge of the Light Brigade_ by Lord Alfred Tennyson

“I’m Daredevil,” Matt says with gravity, as if he’s revealing some great secret.

And Karen laughs. It’s a cruel, high-pitched sound that sounds a little unstable even to Karen’s ears. Because really, she’s had a pretty good suspicion for a while and how could it surprise her? Just another ‘good’ man taking advantage of her, of seeing blonde hair, blue eyes, and innocence to be exploited. 

Maybe that’s not fair. Matt’s certainly not _him_ , he’s not anything like _them_ , but it still cuts too deep. It doesn’t hurt more, per se, when Matt confirms her suspicions and his lies. Maybe the difference is that it’s an acute pain, as opposed to the chronic abuse from before. 

Matt can tell that Karen has disappeared elsewhere. Her heart rate had picked up when he told her, but after another few seconds it had kicked into overdrive. He senses her falling before she realizes it and, despite his hesitance to push her limits, Matt acts on instinct and catches Karen before she falls. 

“Karen! Karen!” Her name floats across her consciousness as she returns to earth. “Karen! Please, are you okay?”

“Yea… don’t worry Kevin, I’m fine.”

“Um, Karen, I know you’re angry at me, but it’s Matt, not Kevin.”

Fuck, why had Karen thought Matt was her twin. Sure, Kev had caught her when she fainted back then, back when everything fell apart, but that was then and this is very much now.

“Ha, Matt. Right. You were breaking the not-so-shocking news that you’re Daredevil.” Karen takes a deep breath to steady herself, trying to push the quiver out of her voice and calm her shaking hands. “I’ve known that for months. Well, maybe not known it, but I was pretty damn sure. I told you once that I am not an idiot and yet that’s still what you took me for. Ha!” Karen tries to displace her thoughts of her brother with her ire at Matt, but it isn’t really working. Her laugh is watery at best. 

“I’m sorry Karen. I’m… I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve to be lied to and I… it tore me up to lie to you like that, Karen, but I didn’t know how else to keep you safe, keep you out of harm's way,” Matt turns away from Karen, wiping away a tear, before mumbling, “for all the good that did.”

Karen tries to move, get ahold of her own weight so she isn't resting, half-sprawled on Matt, but she wobbles again, threatening to topple over. Carefully, Matt pulls Karen’s old desk chair around for her to sit on, then moves quickly to the kitchen to get Karen glass of water. She can hear the water running in the tiny kitchenette. When Matt reappears Karen realizes how much Matt used to hold back, play at being blind. It's honestly impressive to see him move without restraint. Karen sighs, feeling herself forgiving Matt already.

After placing the cup in Karen’s hands, careful not to touch her, Matt turns to face her, his eyes flitting back and forth across the floor. 

“Karen, I think you understand me, I… I’ve heard it in your voice. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try to do the right thing, be the best person, it just ends up twisted. You try and you try and you still fuck everything up.” Matt fists are clenching at his sides.

Reaching out, Karen runs her fingers gently up and own Matt’s arm, then smooths her fingers across his knuckles and watches as he slowly relaxes minutely, unclenching his fists. 

“I do know, Matt. I do. I can’t say I’m not angry at you and I don’t appreciate being lied to, but… I know how these things, they get out of hand.” Karen sighs softly, she can’t believe that she’s going to tell Matt this, but she’s so tired of hiding and lying. Maybe, in light of his own lies, in light of his hidden reality, Matt can understand Karen’s… everything. All of her shit. Maybe, just maybe, Matt will be able to see worth in Karen even after he knows, after he sees the ugly things she’s done, the ugly things she’s had done to her. Or maybe he’ll hand her over to Brett and have her arrested, since he’s mister truth and justice. But it’s a chance she’s willing to take. Foggy, good, pure Foggy… he wouldn’t understand this. Matt, Matt might get it.

“You’re not the only one with secrets Matt.” Unbidden, tears start dripping down Karen’s face thinking about her brother.

“I know,” Matt murmurs, “I’ve heard it in your voice. There’s a language of sadness, a different tone in the voices of people like us, people with secrets, people who have learned to live with anguish. And it got worse last year, but it’s been there for as long as I’ve known you.”

“Yea… How much did, um, did Daredevil find out about the death of Fisk’s assistant? James Wesley.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Matt sighs, “but I was worried that might have been you. You were so upset afterwards and I wanted to ask, but how was I supposed to know the things that Daredevil knew? I wanted to ask Foggy to talk to you, but he was so angry at me and I didn’t want him to think I was spying on you. Karen, it was self defense, Foggy and I could have gotten you off for it, we still can.”

“He kidnapped me, drugged me, threatened me and everything I loved, but I did shoot him. I killed him, Matt. I took that man’s life. And… and it wasn’t even the first time.” Karen exhales and then wipes away her tears determinedly. “I started telling you about my brother, Kevin, but… there’s a lot more I didn’t tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From my internet researching it seems like Kevin was Karen's younger brother, although I don't remember that being mentioned when she talks about him. I decided to him her twin because they have really twin names and because I thought about them being twins and this story kind of fell together.


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, Karen manages to dig up a half full bottle of whiskey and a few mugs that they managed to miss while packing up the office. Having relocated to what was once Nelson & Murdock’s conference room with mugs of whiskey in front of them, Karen starts her story.

“Kevin and I, we were close, which I guess most twins are, but we were inseparable. After we saw The Parent Trap, I, um, I think we were in third grade, we sometimes switched clothes in the morning and went to each other’s class. Our mom, she would get so mad when she realized I was wearing boys clothes and Kev was in my dress. You know, we’re from a preppy family in Vermont and cross-dressing wasn’t exactly tolerated. I was to wear dresses and pearls and dream of being a wife and homemaker and Kev was supposed to wear khakis and a polo shirt and dream take over my dad’s business and finding the perfect wife.” Karen laughs at how ridiculous that all seems now. Had they known how things would go, would their parents have been happy to just have two living children? Would they have not stressed over Karen’s height deterring future suitors and Kevin’s grades preventing his early acceptance to Dartmouth? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe being who they were was just too shameful. 

“That sounds… oppressive.” Matt comments, bringing Karen back to the present.

“Oh yea, unlike the Catholic Church, which is welcoming to everyone,” Karen shoots back and Matt smirks. “Yea, it was horrible. When we were little we shared a room with bunk beds, but my parents didn’t like how much time Kevin and I spent together, so they made me move into the guest room. We begged and cried and, when that failed, locked ourselves in our room. We thought we could wait them out, make them understand how important this was, but we got hungry and they got rid of the bunk beds. I don’t think I ever forgave them. 

At church, my mom convinced the youth pastor to put Kevin ahead a grade so we wouldn’t even have Bible study together. Our pastor, Pastor Ryan, he agreed wholeheartedly. It was agreed that Kevin and I were leading each other away from God’s path or some shit. I don’t know. Turns out uptight white Protestants don’t really like children who don’t ascribe to gender roles. So our parents tried to drive a wedge through us and it worked… or maybe we were just growing up, I’m not sure. 

But we went to middle school and I started playing basketball at school and had a gaggle of female friends to giggle about boys with. A lot of the girls on the team went to church with me, so I started doing church activities and going on retreats. I don’t think I was ever all that religious; I just wanted to be with my friends. Kevin, he withdrew into himself. He played dungeons and dragons with his friends and he read and spent hours on the computer playing video games. At first I tried to get my friend to like him, so he could eat lunch with us, you know, since that’s the most important part of middle school, but they told me it was weird. They told me sisters are supposed to hate their brothers. This one girl, Jennifer, even liked to suggest that Kevin and I were in love or some shit and instead of standing up to those bitches I gave in. At school, when my teammates made fun of the ‘losers,’ I’d join in.”

Matt reaches out to place a hand on Karen’s wrist as she brushes her hair behind her ear and wipes away a tear with the other. “Karen, children are cruel and it happens. You can’t beat yourself up for that. I’m sure your brother still loved you.”

“Yea… he did. Not that I deserved it. We tried to still hang out and stuff when we were home, but it just wasn’t the same. We were living entirely separate lives and I didn’t know how to bridge the gap between us. He withdrew further and further into his world. Don’t get me wrong, he had friends, just not ones my parents or my friends approved of. Anyways, my life seemed right on track. I was the perfect spoiled little rich girl. By the time I was in 9th grade we all knew I was ready to go get my M.R.S. from the University of Vermont. God, my mom was ecstatic when a senior asked me to prom freshman year, like having some 18-year-old jock want to feel up your 14-year-old was some great achievement on her part. God he was nasty, but how could I say no? It was supposed to be what I wanted. Ugh.”

Karen shutters visibly before taking a long swig of whiskey. Judging from her heart rate and the tremor in her hands that persists even after she's drained her mug, Matt's guessing there is more to that story, but he knows it's a miracle Karen is opening up to him and he isn't going to push it. 

It took Karen a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing, “My life was straightforward; I played basketball with my friends, passed notes in class, dated football players, partied, and God, did I party. It just started with house parties, you know? The older girls on the team, they would bring the newbies along and take care of us, but they also thought it was funny to get us drunk off our asses. And I fucking loved being drunk. I got a reputation at school as a party girl, but that was fine with me because those boys I was supposed to marry someday, the ones destined for Harvard and Yale and Dartmouth? They were the ones who liked me best when I was drunk.” Karen snorts because, sure it’s fucked up, but its so fucking true.

“Honestly, that really what got me into trouble, when I think about it,” Karen muses, “I guess I thought bad things didn’t happy to girls like me. Bad shit isn’t supposed to happen to nice, preppy, suburban, white girls who are going to marry Ivy League MBAs and pop out kids and host cocktail parties for the rest of their lives. The whole fucking world had taught me that girls like me are untouchable. We’re not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have been listening to "Til It Happens to You" while writing part of this. Forgive me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Strong trigger warning for rape.** It is not explicit, but it's more than a passing mention.

“Like I said, it really started with the partying.” Karen pours them each another two fingers of whiskey before kicking off her heels tucking one leg underneath herself and slouching down a to rest her chin in her hands. It strikes Matt how very small Karen seems curled in on herself like this.

“It really seemed harmless at first. I mean, there were always other people looking out for me, my friends and older teammates, so I could get plastered and there was always someone there to hold my hair back and make sure I got home in one piece. I was fourteen and I thought I was so adult.” Agitation is plain in Karen’s voice. “At the high school house parties we always played stupid games like spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven. Kissing random guys at parties was weird at first, but started to seem normal since everyone did it and it was just kissing and it wasn’t like it meant anything. At least, it didn’t mean anything to me, but I loved the attention I got from it. Guys were excited when the bottle landed on me and it was validating, as disgusting as that is.” 

Matt reaches out to lay a comforting hand on Karen’s shoulder before realizing that might not be what she needs in this moment. His hand hovers awkwardly before he allows it to drop uselessly back to his side. “I don’t think that’s disgusting Karen. We all want to belong and be wanted.” Matt squirms a bit, thinking of his own lonely childhood.

“Yea," Karen sighs, "I guess you’re right, but I think it’s different for girls, you know? Like, I was raised to think that getting guys attention and dating the ‘right’ guy were the biggest achievements I could aspire to. And, like I said, one of the seniors from the football team asked me to his senior prom my freshman year and my mom was so fucking proud of me. Don’t get me wrong, I was definitely excited about going to prom and I was pumped for the dress and getting my hair, nails, and makeup done, but I didn’t really care about the guy. Anyways, we weren’t, like, dating or anything so I kept partying, getting drunk, making out with random guys, generally enjoying life. My mom took me out to choose a prom dress and I wanted this totally inappropriate, skintight dress, but my dear Christian mother insisted on a big, puffy princess gown. I looked like a fucking cupcake. Actually no. I looked like a little girl. And I was. 

“My friends and our dates all went to prom in a limo and they snuck alcohol in in their purses and, God, I felt so mature. We ate, drank, danced. A handful of guys actually asked me to dance and I was flattered, but my date said no. Which I thought was very chivalrous of him. I thought it was proof that he wanted to date me, that he was staking me as his territory or some other bullshit. He got progressively handsier and when I giggled and pushed his hands to more appropriate places he would offer me another drink. He somehow managed to make them appear from thin air. I was pretty sloppy by the time we were leaving prom. It must have been pretty fucking obvious, but I guess that teachers and chaperones looked the other way. It wasn’t like I was driving or anything, so no harm, no foul, and, let’s be honest, they probably thought a stumbling drunk freshman at prom was a little funny.” Karen snorts with contempt, thinking about what they could have stopped. What did they think would happen to drunk freshman girl being taken home by a senior? 

“We took the limo back to someone’s house, I don’t remember who’s; their parents must not have been home that weekend, probably weekending on The Vineyard. When we got there I, um, I think we drank more before my date told me he wanted to talk in private. I was drunk and naïve, so I believed him. I suppose we did talk,” she lets out a sarcastic chuckle, “about what a slut I was. Turns out all that 'innocent kissing' at parties had earned me a reputation. So we talked about how his friends told him I was easy when I was drunk. How he couldn’t believe I was still on the ‘hot freshman virgins’ list he and his friends kept. How he was going to change that.”

It shocks Matt, even though it shouldn’t, how brittle Karen’s voice sounds. Matt finds himself praying this story doesn’t end the way he thinks it does, but knowing, in his heart, exactly what happens next.

“I, uh, I told him I was a virgin and I was supposed to be saving myself for my husband because, for some reason, that's what stuck with me from church. He laughed. He told me I had to practice so I could be perfect for my husband; he promised to make my first time good. It wasn’t. It hurt like hell and I cried the whole time. When he was done he pulled out and he didn't even realize I was bleeding. He kissed my tears and told me it would never hurt that much again, that he took care of that for me, as if he had done me some great service and not just raped me. I couldn’t stop crying and I begged him not to tell his friends I wasn’t a virgin. It turns out he didn’t because when that list got posted on someone’s blog the next year I was still on it.”

After taking a long swig of whiskey and refilling her mug, Karen continues. “I kept in touch with my prom date when he went off to Keene State the next year. He invited me to visit a bunch of times during the summer and I eventually gave in and decided to go for a weekend visit. One of the senior girls from the team wanted to go down and visit a few of her friends who had graduated the year before, so we drove together. To this day I don’t know why I went. I had gotten into a huge fight with my mom over something trivial like the length of my skirts and I guess I wanted to be reckless and blow off steam. And holy shit was I reckless.

“The whole thing started off innocuous enough. We ate in the dining hall, drank cheap vodka in the dorm rooms, played beer pong, and then headed off to a 'welcome back to school' frat party.” Glancing up at Matt, Karen notices his unschooled expression where the layer of concern is barely masking his rage. Karen realizes how easy it is to read Matt when she really looked.

“It’s not what you think Matt,” Karen says taking his fidgeting hands into hers. 

Matt huffs. “It’s not like something good happened to you at that party.” He turns her hands over in his palms and gives them a gentle squeeze. “I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around.”

A soft smile pulls at Karen lips. “It’s okay Matt. But you’re right. Nothing good came of that party.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I only write in 1000 word fits and starts. Thanks for hanging in there with me!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of drug (ab)use, sexual assault and abuse of a child, and generally squicky stuff along the lines of sexual exploitation of little Karen

“What happened at that party changed my life. I mean, maybe that’s drastic, but it certainly started the ball rolling and it didn’t stop until... well, until Kevin died.” Karen wipes away the tears that are pooling in her eyes and takes a deep breath. “So we went to the frat party and it was fun at first. Drinking games, loud music, and dancing. It didn’t seem too different from parties at home. My prom date, he introduced me to this guy he knew, a senior, said he thought we’d hit it off. I don’t know if he knew who this guy was; I’ve always wondered. Anyways, this guy, Andrew, chatted me up, told me how beautiful I was, how mature I seemed. I was 15 fucking years old.” Karen shutters. “We talked and he kept getting me drinks and then we kissed, but he didn’t push it any further. I thought he was such a gentleman. I had been told that college boys only wanted one thing, but here was this nice older guy who seemed to like me. I gave him my number, but told him he could only call because my parents didn’t like me texting. 

“The next morning I woke up with a massive hangover and a voice mail from Andrew inviting me to dinner. I was on cloud 9. Felt like a fucking adult. Ha!” Matt can hear Karen’s hair brush over her shoulders and she shakes her head. “I was so excited for that night. My first real date. My friend helped me get dressed and do my hair; her college friends supplemented my wardrobe with more “date-appropriate” clothing. I insisted on minimal make up because I was always afraid of accidentally wiping my eyeliner or getting mascara lines. So there I was, barely a sophomore in high school in a tight dress and heels, meeting a twenty-something year old guy for our first date. And he was so sweet. Told me how pretty I was again, complimented my outfit, but told me I didn’t have to try so hard. I went home with him and we had sex. I figured it didn’t really matter since I wasn’t a virgin anyways and he seemed sweet. He was gentle and it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as the time before. I mean, now I know that the post-prom time was rape, but then I just thought everyone’s first time was like that. After, we cuddled and fell asleep in each other’s arms. I really thought that I found a boyfriend. 

“I went back home the next day, but Andrew and I emailed and talked on the phone. I got in trouble for taking up too many of the family plan minutes. I started lying to my parents, telling them I was going out with friends and instead going out with Andrew. I told my friends that my parents were really cracking down and I had a strict curfew so I couldn’t go out like before. I strung everyone along on these lies, but Kevin, he figured out something was up. Even though I ignored him in school and at home, he noticed I was withdrawing from my friends and he heard me talking on the phone all hours of the night. One Friday, after school he asked me what was going on, told me he knew I wasn’t going out with friends and I tried to lie to him. But we’re twins, or we were twins… and he just knew. He knew something was up and I wanted him to know. So I told him about Andrew and how we met and what a good guy he was. And Kevin freaked out. Told me I shouldn’t be seeing a guy that much older than me. He asked what I even knew about him. I got really pissed and said… a lot of horrible things to my brother. God, I still hate myself for the things I said. I called him all sorts of things…” A sob manages to escape Karen as she relives the venom she threw at her brother. Matt gets up and tentatively pats Karen’s back and when she calms down a little bit he starts to rub small circles on her back. “If I could go back in time and undo it, I would. I was such an asshole. He didn’t deserve it. He was worried. And rightfully so. 

“It didn’t start right away, but after a month or so Andrew starting bringing up the idea of making a sex tape. ‘Just for me’ he said. Because he missed me so much during the week and he wanted something to watch when I wasn’t there. I adamantly refused at first, but he wore me down. I really didn’t know how to say no… I just wanted him to like me and want me and he was so much older than me and it didn’t seem like that big of a deal because he promised to keep it to himself.”

“Karen, you could have sought legal recourse if he didn’t! You were a minor; it was statutory rape…” Matt’s face is growing red with rage, his voice approaching the pitch she knows as Daredevil.

“Matt. I was 15 years old. I thought I was adult enough to make these decisions. And that video never did get shared as far as I’m aware. We kept going out on weekends as if nothing had changed. He would pick me up on Saturday evenings and we went out to dinner or a movie and then went back to his apartment and he’d drive me back home in time for church on Sunday.

“It really started with jokes about showing the tape to his friends, so they could ‘see how hot his girl was’. I was mortified. Begged him not to show anyone. He started using it to get me to do things I normally would have said no to.” Karen winces, remembering what she had done, as Matt empties the bottle of whiskey into her mug. 

“It started out innocuous enough, you know? Just trying out cocaine because ‘it wasn’t really addictive’ and sex in places I wasn’t comfortable with and more videos. Andrew loved getting me high on cocaine and making videos. Apparently I ‘fucked like a porn star’ on speed,” Karen snorts and Matt’s hands are shaking, “and it turns out that was his plan all along.”

“No…” Matt says, almost too low to hear.

“Yes,” Karen says it with a resigned sigh. So much time has past and she still can’t help but fixate on the cascading failures in her judgment and the cruelty of it all. 

“Turns out I wasn’t the first high school girl he had done this to. He wasn’t even in college, just used frat houses as a hunting ground for new kiddie porn stars… Naïve, young, and eager to please…With the threat of him sharing the videos online I let him talk me into it.

“He didn’t talk you into it, Karen,” Matt’s voice is pleading as he sit down right in front of Karen, almost managing to make eye contact, “he coerced you. He abused you. He- he-” 

“Calm down Matt,” Karen pats his hand and then takes a long pull of whiskey. Matt passes her his half-full mug, which she cradles in her hands.

“I know it was coercive and that I was a child, but it’s still hard to live with, you know? Tell me you’ve come to terms with your dad’s death?” Matt huffs out a laugh in response, “That’s what I thought. Trauma has a way of haunting people. I just… I know it ‘wasn’t my fault,’” Karen’s voice makes her air quotes pretty damn clear, “but it still feels like it was. What the hell was I thinking? What kind of logic was that? I’m afraid of him sharing the first videos so I let him make porn of me with other guys? I mean, he sure as shit didn’t tell me it was porn, just said he wanted to watch me with someone, wanted to tape it just to see. I don’t even know why I didn’t just get the fuck out. But I didn’t. I felt like I was in too deep; that there was nothing but this. Feeling disgusting and used was all I thought I could get out of life. I was getting high all the time. When he wanted to ‘make a new video’ I got fuck up on cocaine and alcohol and I did whatever I was told to do with whoever I was told to do. As far as I know there’s still some of the videos floating around the internet. I mean, the dark net wasn’t as well protected and I know the, um, the videos got pulled from as lot of kiddie porn websites, but I know there’s more.

“I started showing up to church with hickeys and a hangover and no one noticed, except Kevin. He didn’t say anything at first. He knew about Andrew and I think he didn’t want to risk having me go off on him again, but a few days before our sixteenth birthday I showed up at home barely able to walk with a ring of bruises around my neck.” Karen’s hand floats subconsciously to her neck to touch the phantom imprint of hands around her throat. Tilting her head towards Matt with a smirk she adds, “nothing as bad as what you’ve shown up here sporting, but we can’t all be masochistic superheroes.” Matt snorts and a genuine smile flits across Karen’s face before her face falls and she returns to her story.

“I did what I could to hide the limp and coved the bruising up as best I could with a scarf and make up, but Kev and I, we shared a bathroom and he saw me reapplying concealer one morning. I knew he saw, but he didn’t say anything at first, so I figured he didn’t care. That day after school he came up to my room with hot chocolate piled with marshmallows, something we adored as little kids, and he asked me, point blank, what Andrew was doing to me. And I just broke down. Sobbing and disgusting, I let my brother hold me as I told him what had happened. I mean, I spared him the details, but gave him the general outline. Called myself a whore. Told him I was dirty and disgusting and going to Hell and that he should stay away from me. I expected him to leave me there, crying alone in my room and go tell our parents to get back at me for the horrible things I had said to him, that I had done since fifth grade. Instead he held me close. Told me it wasn’t my fault, that I could never be disgusting to him.” Tears are running down Karen’s cheeks and when she looks up she sees that Matt is silently crying. He reaches out and takes her hands with a gentle squeeze. “He told me how much he loved me and that he was there for me no matter what.

“For the first time in months I felt human again. By this point I had quit the basketball team and was basically out friends. I had let Andrew become my life. But here was Kevin, the best friend that God gave me at birth. I went to bed early that night with a promise from Kev that we would figure out something out, together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this chapter while drunk because, it turns out, I did not have it in me to write it sober. Oh well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: mentions of rape (it's not explicit but it is happening in the scene), physical violence, death, suicide
> 
> this kinda went from 0-60 (well maybe not 0...) in under 3000 words - you've been warned

“As it turns out, two sheltered fifteen year olds don’t really have a great sense of how to disentangle themselves from this kind of mess. At first, Kevin wanted to tell the police; the way he saw it the case was pretty cut and dry, but I was terrified that I would be in trouble if the police got involved. I thought that there must be a third way out that solved the problem and without everything coming out. I was so worried about protecting myself and… And I was so fucking wrong. I should have just let him call the police. It would have sucked but at least I would still have a brother… Instead, we tried to solve the problem ourselves.

“The first step, we agreed, was to cut him out of my life. I stopped answering his email, blocked his number, and did my best to pretend he didn’t exist. Which maybe would have worked if he didn’t know where I went to school and where I lived. He just started showing up. At first it was just his car sitting outside of school; I wasn’t sure it was him at first. I thought I was just seeing things and Kev didn’t seem to notice so I wrote it off as my paranoia. And he never got out of his car so I could never know if it was really him. Our 16th birthday came and went without incident and I thought I was in the clear. But then he came to my church one Sunday. He sat in pew behind us, took communion with my parents, chatted with my pastor, and then he asked if he could borrow me for a few minutes because he had questions about youth group. My parents, of course, trusted anyone who came to church and said it would be fine if he just brought me home after we were done talking. Kevin tried to stay, tried to insert himself into the discussion of youth group, but he had never been active in youth group, so he had no excuse and my parents expected him to leave with them and he knew I didn’t want them to know about Andrew so he held his tongue… I swear, I saw my own fear reflected in his eyes when my parents led him out. It was like we both knew a storm was brewing.

“Once they were gone, Andrew kept chatting with me about youth group activities until he was sure we were alone; the church administrator had asked me to make sure I turned all the lights off before I left. Then he pulled me by the arm back into the nave and I was tripping over myself because he was dragging me and I was in my church heels. He hauled me around in front of him and as I registered that the pressure on my arm had released, he punched me. I had never been hit before and I was in shock; it was like my entire world, all my focus was on that fist shaped spot on my eye. You must know how that is, right? Although I guess you’re an expert at taking a punch now.”

Karen gives a half-hearted chuckle and Matt just squeezes her hands and runs his thumbs in circles on the backs of her hands.

“He hit me hard enough that I was knocked down and I remember scrambling backwards, towards the alter. I don’t think I had ever understood fight or flight until that moment. It wasn’t even a conscious thought, my body just wanted to get me away. Unfortunately, it didn’t succeed. I didn’t even make it to my fucking feet before he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the sacristy. I don’t know why I didn’t scream. Like, Jesus Christ, why didn’t I fucking scream? Ugh.” Karen shakes her head, disgusted with herself. It’s clear that Matt wants to comfort her, to say something contradicting her statement; Karen sees it clear as day on his face.

“I know, Matt. I know that it's just sometimes what happens and that it’s not my fault, but it’s never stopped feeling that way. Maybe if I’d screamed someone would have come, would’ve stopped all the horrible things that were about to happen…”

“Karen…” Matt starts, “I’m so so sorry this happened to you and I know there’s more to the story and I want to know, if you’ll tell me, but I’d really like to hug you now. Can I do that?”

“Yea, Matt,” Karen responds as he wraps her into a hug, not dissimilar from the time Karen had found Matt falling apart, alone in the office. The time he said he couldn’t do it alone. She had told him then that he was never alone, that he wouldn't have to do it alone, but then they had both tried to do just that. 

They stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, taking comfort in the warmth and familiarity there. 

“I hate to break this moment,” Karen murmurs, “but should we move this elsewhere? Perhaps somewhere more comfortable?”

“Yea,” Matt agrees, “Do you want to come back to my apartment?”

Karen nods and smiles slightly, sure that Matt is also remembering the first time he led her out of this office and back to his apartment. 

Hailing a cab is fairly easy this early on Christmas Eve. The ride back to Matt’s apartment is silent, in a sweet, comforting way. Familiarity blanketing them, Karen rests her head on Matt’s shoulder and takes a deep breath enjoying the warmth of the moment. Her story gets worse before it gets better, but saying it out loud, after all these years, makes her feel lighter where she thought it would feel heavy. And Matt’s here, for the first time in months, he is solidly and completely here, with his mask in a paper bag in one hand and his other wrapped around Karen’s shoulder. The verse from one of the gospels ‘the truth will set you free’ comes to mind and she has to laugh, a dark heavy sound, at how true this seems and how much lies have cost both of them.

Back at Matt’s apartment Karen turns on the lights as Matt gets them glasses of water. Handing her a glass, Matt sits on the couch and Karen fits herself into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. It’s platonic and loving and feels like home. 

“So where was I?” Karen asks after taking a long sip of water.

“The sacristy,” Matt says quietly, running his free hand through her hair. 

“Right, the sacristy. Well, by the time he got me in there I got my feet under me and he slammed me into a wall. I head hit the wall so hard I was seeing stars. With a hand around my neck he started groping me and growled in my ear that his girls ‘don’t get away that easy’ and that he’d rather bury me than lose me to another man. Then he started kissing me, all teeth and tongue. I started crying and he wiped away the tears with his thumb, pressing down on the bruise that was growing around my eye, which made me cry harder. He just laughed, told me shut up, and slapped me. He must have had on a ring because he cut open my cheek, right along my cheekbone.” Karen’s hand brushes across he left cheek, right below her eye and Matt presses a kiss in her hair. 

“He turned me around and raped me over the counter where I had once helped prepared communion. I watched the blood pool on the counter from the cut on my cheek and my mind wandered. You know how, in moments of panic or terror sometimes your brain wanders to the weirdest place? In that moment, being held down, choked, and raped, my mind wandered to Christ on the cross. ‘My God, my God, why have thou forsaken me’ – there I was in the house of God and where was He? I wondered if this was my penance for what I had done. Which was also about the time I passed out. 

“I came to in a pool of my own blood, my skirt around my waist, tights ripped, and an envelope with my name on it. It had stills from some of the, um, videos he had of me and a note that said I was going to start answering his calls or he was sending copies of those photos to my pastor and principal. 

“So I just cleaned myself up, carefully folded and tucked the pictures and note back in the envelope, went and got my coat and purse from the cloak room, and called Kevin to come get me. I honestly don’t know how he convinced our parents to let him take the car. We had just gotten our learners permits. Maybe he didn’t ask, maybe he just took it… But, um, he came and got me so I didn’t have to walk home with a black eye and a cut cheek and a bruised neck. Kevin begged me to go to hospital but I still didn’t want anyone to know what was happening; I still thought I could figure a way out of this without help. Our parents weren’t home; dad was golfing and mom was at book club at our neighbors, so I didn’t have to sneak into the house. I took a long shower, scoured my skin, and Kev got me ice for my eye and a bandage for my cheek. We didn’t talk about it, just watched an old Disney movie, Toy Story; it had been our favorite as kids. I fell asleep during the movie, but we had agreed that he would tell our parents I had a stomach bug when they got home. 

“I had horrible nightmares while I was dozing off. I woke up with a sharp pain in my head at like 1:30ish and I assumed it was just from getting slammed into a wall. I could hear my parents downstairs, back from golf and book club and Kev had left aspirin and water by my bed, so I took that and drifted back off until my mom started screaming a half hour later. 

“They found Kevin in our mom’s car off the interstate to the college. D.O.A. The break line appeared to be severed, probably from driving over debris. A freak accident, we were told; nothing the police could do. A storm had pulled down a lot of trees the week prior, so there was probably just a case of bad luck. But I knew. He went to confront Andrew. He died because of me.”

Overtaken with grief, a sob rips through Karen. Matt holds her tight let’s her cry. 

“I know this probably won’t help,” Matt starts when Karen has calmed down a bit, “but he didn’t die because of you. He died because someone else did something horrible.”

Karen sniffles, leaning away from Matt to fish tissues out of her purse, and nods slightly.

“I didn’t pull the trigger, metaphorically speaking, but he was caught in my tornado of bad decisions… There are so many ‘what ifs’ that I’ve played out in my head. All of them are better than him dead on the side of the interstate. He bled out. It was a remote enough part stretch of highway that no one found him for a half hour. 

“The police took us home; caught up in their grief, my parents hadn’t noticed my face, but the police did. After my parents went up to their bedroom and closed the door the police asked if I was being abused. And I lied. I told them it was a freak accident. Just like my brother’s death. I asked them to leave me, to let me grieve. As soon as they were gone I took money out of my mom’s purse and took a cab down to Andrew’s apartment. I don’t even know what I thought I was going to do, but I needed to go confront him. I couldn’t stand up for myself, but my brother was dead and I knew who was culpable. 

“He was high and drunk when I got there, told me he knew I’d come back, told me he was all I had now that my loser brother was dead. When I told him I was calling the police he pulled a gun on me. I don’t know what made me do it, maybe I was blind with grief and maybe I wanted to die, but I just kind of charged him. The drugs and booze must have made him clumsy or maybe me having a spine just startled him that much, but he dropped the gun. Somehow I got it in my hands and he laughed. Said something about a prissy, spoiled, little bitch like me being too scared to pull the trigger. And I thought he was right. He backed me up to the door and I didn’t do anything, but then he reached for my throat. And I pulled the trigger. 

“There was so much blood and he was screaming. I dropped the gun and collapsed, too shaky to even stand. One of his neighbors must have called the police when they heard the gunshot because it felt like moments later there were strong hands steering me into an ambulance.

“My parents didn’t even come to the hospital until twelve hours after I was admitted. They had turned off their cellphones and unplugged the wall phones after we found out about Kevin. So I went through it all, alone. I was tested for GSR and pictures were taken of my injuries and the blood spatter on my hands and clothes. All my belongings were bagged and I was given a hospital gown. The police couldn’t take my statement without a guardian present so I just sat there, practically naked and alone and I waited. They eventually got ahold of my aunt and uncle who lived in Hartford who came up, sat in while I gave my initial statement. When I wouldn’t talk about it more they gave the police permission to talk to me alone. They took my house keys and went to find my parents. 

“When I was alone I told the cops everything. About Andrew, the porn, the abuse, what had happened in church, and what I suspected Kevin had been doing on the interstate with a learners permit. It was horrible. They asked me why I hadn’t said no to making videos and if Andrew was my boyfriend, if I had asked Kevin to go talk to Andrew. Eventually, a detective showed up and she was way better. Told me it wasn’t my fault and all the shit, but the damage was done. 

“The trial was worse, but my attorney was an amazing person. He was so kind to me, didn’t look at me like I was a naughty child or like I was dirty like everyone else seemed to. He protected me as best he could from the shit storm of the media. My parents were too wrought with grief over Kevin that they just couldn’t handle leaving the house. They didn’t ever come to the court. But my attorney was there for me. I think that’s why I trusted you guys so quickly. You remind me a bit of him.”

Matt smiles, pulls Karen close to him.

“The shooting was ruled self defense and Andrew was found guilty of all of the charges, rape in the first degree, endangerment of a child, creation and distribution of porn, and on and on. It’s actually kind of amazing how many charges the DA's office found to level against him. They actually found videos of three or four other girls around my age, but none of them would testify and I can’t say I blame them. We lived in a small town and everyone knew what had happened. ‘Those Page twins, odd children, brought trouble on themselves,’ I overheard when I tried to pick up groceries a few weeks after the trial. After that I didn’t leave the house. I was to be homeschooled. My parents were to keep an eye on me. 

A month after the trial I found out I had gonorrhea. The next month I started drinking my way through my parent’s liquor cabinet. Three months after Kevin’s death my mom found me bleeding out in my bathtub. I had another suicide attempt a few months later and again a year after Kevin died, which is when my parents checked me into an inpatient facility. I was there for a pretty long time and it helped, I eventually managed to get my GED and even get a few college credits through a local community college, but I also realized I could never go back to Fagan Corners. So I didn’t tell my parents when I was finally discharged from the hospital. I just packed my bags and caught a bus to New York.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to crank out the last chapter/epilogue tomorrow before I start NaNoWriMo, but we shall see because I also have a Physical Organic Chem exam on Tuesday...
> 
> I couldn't fit this in, but the verse "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" first appears in the Gospel of Matthew (27:46)
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, y'all!


	6. Chapter 6

Karen remains curled into Matt’s side, crying for close to an hour. She had done her best to push this all from her conscious, to start from scratch when she got to New York, but it had always been there. Every birthday was a reminder of who she had lost and why he was gone.

 

“I really thought they were going to kill me in that holding cell,” Karen mumbles into Matt’s shoulder. He starts a little; it’s been quiet, relatively speaking, for a while. “And I knew everyone would believe it. _Karen Page, in trouble with the law again and of course, she tries to kill herself._ No one would have questioned it. I’m not even sure you and Foggy would have.”

 

Matt sighs heavily because he knows the truth. “I don’t want to think you’re right, Karen, but it’s true, your past would have made your suicide seem, well, almost expected… But you fought and you’re here.” Matt breathes in deep, memorizes the way Karen smells and tries not to think about the what-if of her not being here.

 

“It was me who killed Wesley,” Karen admits in a small voice. “It was me and I didn’t even regret it. I, uh, I told him that I’d shot a man before and, in that moment, I was glad to be able to save myself and keep him from hurting you and Foggy. I was proud that no one had to intervene for me. Some days I think I’m a monster.” And maybe she should be crying, but this admission just makes her feel lighter. Matt is Daredevil and Matt cares about Karen; he’s gotta understand.

 

There’s a long silence in which Karen becomes concerned that she’s ruined everything. She’s going to be another Daredevil collar. She wonders idly if Foggy will represent her.

 

When Matt does finally speak, his voice is full of barely restrained fury.

 

“I’m glad you saved yourself Karen, but, God, I’m sorry I wasn’t there. You’re so important and I couldn’t even be there for you. It’s pathetic… I promised I would keep you safe… I –”

 

Karen cuts off Matt’s self-hate spiral with a firm hand on his arm.

 

“Stop, Matt. Just stop. There’s an endless world of ‘what-ifs’. Look at what I just told you. My brother died. My brother died standing up for me and I swam in a sea of self-hate and what-ifs until I couldn’t anymore. It was give up and drown or fight like hell to get out and, while I tried to choose the former, the latter made me who I am. But you can’t live like that, Matt, not long term. It’s not sustainable. And I know your past is complicated and there are things you aren’t ready to leave, but Matt, you’re holding on to things that are going to kill you.”

 

“I know Karen. I – I just don’t know how.”

 

Matt’s hands are balled into fists on his lap, his body itching to fight its way out of the problem.

 

“You’re not going to unpack all your shit in one night. I know that. God knows, I’m still trying more than a decade later, but Matt, you have to try. No more of this bullshit solitary soldier act. I know there’s something in your life that made you like this, but you have to move past it.” Matt hears Karen’s breathe catch, as if fighting back tears, as she whispers, “I don’t think I can watch it kill you.”

 

And then they’re crying again. So many things that need to be said or taken back float in the air, but for now, they just hold each other and hurt together. 

 

* * *

 

Three months later, on Karen’s birthday, Matt shows up to her apartment with a balloon (“they swore it had a monkey on it”), a book, and a bouquet of lilies. They take the train up to Fagan Corners, Matt in a black suit and tie and Karen wearing the dress she’s come to reserve for funerals. _It could be Matt’s funeral next_ , her brain helpfully supplies, but Karen pushes it down and does her best to focus on the present.

 

They get off the train in Brattleboro and take a cab up to Fagan Corner. Matt’s been relatively quiet and given Karen her space this whole trip, which she appreciates (she doesn’t need him breathing down her neck or watching her like she’s about to break), but when they’re getting out of the cab and she reaches for his hand he takes it and squeezes it tight, not dropping it as they pass through the gates to the church’s cemetery.

 

“We used to come here on Halloween. After we trick-or-treated, Kevin and I would sneak in and tell each other the scariest story we could think of and scarf about half of our candy because mom would confiscate most of it when we got home.” Karen lets out a weak laugh before her face falls again. “It’s hard. Some of my best memories of him are here. And then, of course, his funeral; one of the worst days of my life. I had to bury my other half and face the church. I didn’t even really get to mourn because I was so caught up trying to hear what people were saying about me… and then distinctly trying to **not** hear what was being said about me.”

 

“You can mourn now,” Matt says softly, as they cross to Kevin’s grave. It’s clean and cared for, but Matt notices that there are no flowers on the headstone.

 

Laying the lilies down, Karen runs a hand softly over the engraving:

 

Kevin Paxton Page – Beloved Son, Cherished Brother

“Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” –Matthew 19:14

 

“I hated that they chose that passage. Like I should be fucking glad he was dead because he was ‘in a better place’. I hate that, you know? I missed my brother and every church lady wanted to tell me he was with Jesus now and how that was a blessing. It hurt, so much.”

 

Tears are streaming down Karen’s face and she leans into Matt’s side.

 

“I know the feeling,” Matt says into Karen’s hair.

 

They stay there like that, Matt just holding Karen while she cries herself out; she let’s years of pain over Kevin pour out and Matt just stays.

 

On the train ride back, Karen takes Matt’s hands and says, “Thank you Matt. I needed you there with me.” Matt smiles and is trying to think of the right self-depreciating comment when Karen continues, “Seriously, you seem to think you only make a difference when you’re in the costume, but here, today, I needed Matt Murdock. You took a six hour train ride to the middle of nowhere just to be there for me and I love you for it. You make a big difference like this, Matt, you really do. Don't forget that.”

 

And all Matt can hear in her heartbeat is _truth_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking it out with me! This was not an easy story for me to write, but I really enjoyed it and I hope you did to!
> 
> I put Fagan Corners roughly where Guilford, VT is.


End file.
